The Frog Knight
by PyroStriker
Summary: PG for minor language. This explores some of Frog's feelings before the battle with Magus and his transformation, primarily his relationship with the ill-fated Sir Cyrus. Let me know what you think. Complete.


What had he done to deserve this?  
  
The bullies danced around him in a circle, beating and kicking him. Glenn tried to hold back the tears, but couldn't. He dropped to his knees in the soft grass, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed uncontrollably. This merely egged on the others, of course. They laughed and jeered, lashing out at his hunched form. Why did they enjoy tormenting him so?  
  
Suddenly a larger boy leaped into the fray, scattering the circle of ruffians in a flurry of fists and feet.  
  
"Shit, it's Cyrus! Run for it!"  
  
"You alright, Glenn?"  
  
The other boys had retreated. Cyrus had bent over him, and was offering him his hand. Glenn wiped his tearstained hands as best he could before taking it. Glenn smiled at his friend. He looked at Cyrus almost like his big brother; and like most brothers, he both admired Cyrus for his protection and resented him for it at the same time. Cyrus pulled him up and patted him on the back.  
  
"You're such a marshmallow, Glenn. Sometimes you gotta toughen up."  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
Fast-forward a few years. Glenn walked onto the bridge, where Cyrus was waiting, already bedecked in his armor and sword. He looked out at the narrow channel that went beneath the bridge and emptied into the sea. He sighed.  
  
"Glenn, I'm thinking of becoming a knight. For the Kingdom of Guardia."  
  
"That doesn't surprise me. You've wanted to do that ever since we were little."  
  
"Yes... but I want you to come with me."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. You're even better with a sword than I am. You'd be great, and we could fight together. Side by side."  
  
"I may be good with a sword, but I don't have a warrior's mind like you. I'm a marshmallow, remember?"  
  
"That was almost eight years ago, Glenn."  
  
"It's still true. I'd flake."  
  
"I don't think so, Glenn."  
  
"Alright, fine. I'll come with you to Guardia."  
  
Several years later...  
  
"I'm telling you, we have to attack Magus NOW! There is no better chance to strike!"  
  
"Alright, Sir Cyrus. You have royal permission to leave to attack Magus alone. Unless, of course, you opt to take Glenn with you..."  
  
Glenn's head snapped upwards. He hadn't planned on going with Cyrus to attack Magus! He was supposed to stay behind and help protect the castle! Cyrus was undeniably excited, but he had the presence of mind to pretend to consider it for a moment.  
  
"Yes, I think Glenn would be of great assistance to me."  
  
"Very well. Glenn, you may go with Sir Cyrus."  
  
"But Your Majesty, wouldn't I be of more use protecting the castle?"  
  
"That is actually unnecessary. We have plenty of candidates to lead the castle defense. You may rest assured that going with Sir Cyrus will not impede the Kingdom in any way. Besides, if you defeat Magus, the war will be over!"  
  
"Very well, Queen Leene..."  
  
"Good luck to both of you."  
  
They walked outside the castle doors. Cyrus had trouble containing his excitement.  
  
"Isn't this great? We get to kill off Magus and come back heroes throughout the kingdom!"  
  
"Yeah. Great."  
  
Several hours later, they were battling their way through the forest held by the troops of Magus.  
  
"Nirvana Strike!"  
  
Cyrus rushed forward in a sudden burst of speed and delivered a dizzying barrage of slashes that cut the opposing monster to tiny bits. He turned to Glenn, his red-tinged sword at his side.  
  
"Come on, Magus is just ahead!"  
  
They both set out at a flat run, their long strides pounding the earth. They reached a small rocky outcropping, and with a single bound, leapt to the top. Magus stood there, along with a bloated green henchman Glenn recognized as Ozzie.  
  
"Magus! You die where you stand!"  
  
Magus's steely eyes narrowed in displeasure.  
  
"How irritating."  
  
Magus never got a chance to say anything more, for at that precise moment Cyrus charged.  
  
He never even reached the wizard.  
  
Cyrus was hurled backward by a magical onslaught of lightning bolts, and fell limp at Glenn's feet. Magus flicked his wrist in an almost bored way, and Cyrus's limp body was consumed in roaring flames.  
  
"CYRUS! No!"  
  
"Well, would you care to have a go?"  
  
"I... I..."  
  
Glenn's palms were sweating profusely, he was afraid his sword would slip from his grasp. The giant green buffoon let out a loud guffaw.  
  
"He's a wimp, Magus! Turn him into something nasty."  
  
"I agree, Ozzie... Let's find him a more suitable form."  
  
Magus waved his hands, and Glenn began to glow with kaleidoscopic energy. He felt his body rearranging itself. He stumbled, teetered for a moment on the edge of the platform, then fell, down... down... he blacked out.  
  
He woke up, face down in the grass. His eyes roved the earth, and settled to rest on his hand. It blended with the grass. His hand was green! Then Glenn realized he could move both of his eyes independently. His next thought hit him harder that the thunderbolts Magus had destroyed his dearest friend with.  
  
He was a frog. A godforsaken FROG!  
  
He buried his head in his slimy green hands, as he had done more than a dozen years ago, and wept with sobs that sounded like croaks, which served to drive him even further into his madness. Perhaps Magus was right when he said 'a more suitable form'. After all, at the mere sight of danger, frogs dove into the water or hid under lily pads. If he had been born a frog, Cyrus would have had a different friend, and then Cyrus wouldn't have died because of his own cowardice! Suddenly, the thing that had once been Glenn caught a glimpse of something shining in the water of the stream that ran by.  
  
"The Hero Medal..."  
  
Glenn remembered when he first found it. Cyrus had found one of his own, the Medal of Courage. Well, Cyrus certainly was courageous. But he was no hero. Yet, he felt a soothing calm surge through him when he picked up the medal. Then, he made up his mind.  
  
He would forsake his former identity, live as a frogman. He would go back to Guardia, act as a bodyguard to the Royal Family, as he had done for a brief period earlier in his life. He would pretend not to know anything about Cyrus or the man he once was. No one would know. The world would forget Glenn had ever existed eventually.  
  
But the world would not forget the valiant Sir Cyrus. Nor would he. 


End file.
